Steadfast
by clangwee
Summary: She always makes him wait. And he will. AUish/Oneshot.


**Disclaimer:** If I did own it, then might as well rename the series as Klaroline Diaries. And Klaus would still be alive right now. :(

* * *

1521.

It isn't even half past the century and he's already tired of it.

_Oh, the drawback of forever. _

Don't get him wrong—Niklaus loves parties. But now, he is just losing his patience.

Because despite everyone's insistence that this celebration is for Elijah's homecoming, he knows very well that all of this is for her.

And she is inexcusably late. _Way to go, aggravating an original._

* * *

Elijah turned her.

That was 10 years ago.

"I love her." He remembers Elijah telling him this during one of his visits.

"We don't love, brother." He replied confidently. "We only know to feed."

* * *

She arrives.

_About the bloody time. _(He just had to say it for he is almost convinced that the next people to ask him about her will find themselves missing a limb. Come on, even thousand year olds get impatient.)

And there she is in the flesh—the then faceless infant his brother is so enamored about.

"Huh," he scoffs the first time he sees her. Blonde hair? Blue eyes? _Veering away from Tatia, are we? _He mocks inwardly. _We'll see about that._

She approaches him, smiling sweetly. "It's impolite to stare, Mr. Mikaelson," she says. _Too sweet_, he thinks. _And too damn warm for a vampire._

It's sickening.

* * *

Her name is Caroline.

She is from France.

She is a singer.

She will be eternally nineteen.

She likes morning walks.

She likes the smell of new books.

She likes playing with Rebekah's hair.

She likes teasing the hell out of Kol.

She likes her quiet time with Finn in the library.

She likes falling asleep on Elijah's lap.

She likes watching Niklaus draw.

and

She hates how Niklaus hates her.

He lists all of this as he continues to observe her. After all, he considers himself a good reader of character.

He still finds her sweetness and warmth mildly nauseating. But, he is definitely intrigued.

He'll give her that.

* * *

She likes crying beside the fountain.

He finds her there, huddled in her white nightdress.

"If you are here to taunt me about Katerina, I already know about it," she says indignantly as she looks at him.

Elijah._ The fool_. Fawning over the doppelganger like a madman. And yes, Niklaus can be goading all about it now with his _I told you so's_. But he doesn't.

He sees how years of living with the originals have indeed fed off all of her incandescent spark. _I guess we have done our homework_, he thinks. He pretends he does not feel that odd painful stinging in his non-beating heart.

"I trust Elijah," she declares as if convincing him (or herself). She then stands up to depart but he promptly grabs her arm.

"Then why are you crying?"

She yanks her arm away from him. "Am not," she mutters as she hastily avoids meeting his eyes.

He laughs. She looks at him sharply, the life in her eyes momentarily reappearing.

"Yes you are, you stubborn girl," he says as he thoughtlessly wipes her cheek with a sleeve of his shirt.

* * *

He forgets the lists.

In his sketchbook, he commits everything to his memory.

* * *

For a month, he takes Katerina away on a trip.

He thinks he does this to smite his brother. But really, he is just tired of seeing a certain lady tear up.

He comes back home to a lot of infuriated looks from Elijah and Caroline.

He understands the former. _But from Caroline?_

* * *

He finds that Elijah has left with Katerina—perhaps to hopelessly reclaim all her lost affections from her time with Niklaus.

He finds Caroline, waiting for him in his room. And even before he can tease her (a _You miss me that much?_ sounds good), she immediately speaks.

"Explain to me," she says almost breathlessly, her voice filled with unsaid tragedy. "What that woman holds over both of your heads."

He does not answer her. But instead, hands her his sketchbook.

"That woman means nothing to me," he whispers, resting a hand on her cheek. "You are the only one who holds my every thought." His face closes to hers, he can feel her sweet breath.

"You alone hold me captive."

* * *

He draws her.

As she slumbers beside him, he draws every inch of her that he has held and kissed.

When she wakes up, she sees herself—skillfully illustrated by an artist, adoringly immortalized by a lover.

They both agree.

It is their favorite piece.

(_Let me frame it, _Niklaus says endearingly.

_You wouldn't!_)

* * *

She likes the calming sound of his pen on a paper.

She likes how his eyebrows crumple when he's concentrating.

She likes how he bites his lower lip when he makes mistakes.

She likes his serene face when he sleeps.

She likes the bittersweet taste of his blood.

She tells him all of this.

Caroline has her own lists after all.

* * *

No one asks.

Yet anyone can notice the love bites on Caroline's neck—marks that a refined original (like Elijah with his tidy hair and unwrinkled suits) will not dare leave on a lady's skin for all to see.

But not if that original is a big bad wolf hiding in an (dimpled) angel's façade (like Niklaus with his sandy hair and ocean blue eyes).

No one asks.

(_Besides, you two hardly count as a couple now you barely look at each other_, the big bad wolf whispers to her ear.

_We are both healing_, she answers sadly as she traces patterns on his bare back.)

* * *

They come.

Their timing is impeccable. Rebekah, Kol and Finn are away. He, on the other hand, was… _distracted _(He's in one of their "meetings" with her, to say the least). And from the creased clothes of his usually sophisticated brother, he thinks Elijah was too (Distracted, he means).

Not to mention, it's a full moon. _Now, isn't that just dandy? _

They attack.

Six wolves. Four vampires. _Reckon we've truly angered them to resort in a team up against us. _He smirks.

The brothers could have taken them easily if not for that blasted (and still-human) doppelganger getting herself hostage. They could certainly have won—if not one of them coming in, a weakened Caroline (reeking with vervain) in tow.

They bite her.

Yes, not just one. Three filthy mongrels have sunk their teeth on her delicate flesh just as Elijah manages to retrieve Katerina. But Niklaus is a breath's length too late from his love's rescue.

She dies almost instantly.

Elijah shrieks in agony. Niklaus immediately decimates every one of the adversaries in homicidal fury.

That night when blood rained and screams blared, she dies.

* * *

He is hurt.

He is in denial.

He is angry. _Very angry._

He goes to a destructive rampage for centuries and hunts down every family and relation of those who have contributed to her demise.

He has a persistent void in his dead heart. He knows he cannot fill this because, deep down, he feels he is also to be blamed.

If his bloody curse had been lifted before that fateful night, he could have saved her.

* * *

Elijah rests a hand on his shoulder. "I miss her terribly."

"I let her die," he says sardonically, his eyes focused on the crackling flames in the fireplace.

"Didn't both of us do? We both let her down. In more ways than one."

* * *

Klaus waits. (He doesn't go by Niklaus now.)

He waits for his bloody meal. He reminds himself of killing that sorry excuse of a waiter after this.

He waits for that redhead to get out of the cafe. That's another meal for later. Although, the blonde one… _No. He will not._

He waits for news about Elijah whom he hadn't seen since that wretched doppelganger had fled.

He waits to get his hands on Katerina and to tear her heart out from her chest.

He waits to meet the new doppelganger and to be free of this damn curse that inhibits him of being his true nature. (The same curse that cost him the life of his greatest love.)

Most of all, past the countless killings and murderous agenda, he still waits. _For her._

* * *

He arrives at Mystic Falls.

And the moment he lays his eyes on her, he is not surprised. He was waiting for that moment after all. He had imagined meeting her again countless of times that all he can feel when he sees her is utter and immense gratitude—to whomever higher being, to the weavers of fate or to that red string of destiny… _Whateve_r.

Curse his evil existence but this thousand year old hybrid is ready to bow down to whomever's hand that brought her to him. Again.

She is there. Caroline is standing before him. Alive and breathing (Or not alive and not breathing but… You get the idea.)

* * *

"Now, you know how it feels like." It's Elijah's turn to laugh at him now. Klaus ignores him.

She always makes him wait. And he will. He will win her back.

And with that, he recoups his lists.

* * *

At The Grill, he waits for her.

"It's rude to stare, you know?" she says when she enters, head held high.

He stares at her, amused by her guts. He cannot help but to be blown away by her spunky personality and, not to mention, her beautiful physique despite being already familiar and *coughs* intimate with her in the past.

"You're at it again," she snaps, again breaking his train of thought.

"At what again?"

"Staring." She crosses her arms. "At me."

"What can I say, love? The view is captivating." He gives her The Smirk™.

It's her turn to stare this time with _Seriously?_ written all over her face. She then rolls her eyes, walking away to return to her friends.

Before he knows it, he is on his feet following her with her name escaping his lips.

* * *

She wakes up. She sees him sitting at the foot of her bed.

"You saved me." She feels her bite wound already healed.

"I did." He says, settling closer to her. The obvious relief in his voice does not escape her.

"Can I ask why?"

"No, sweetheart." He tucks a loose strand of her blonde locks on her ear. "Not Yet."

* * *

In Paris, he tells her everything.

"I have waited too long for this." Atop the Eiffel Tower, he buries his head on the crook of her neck and inhales her scent.

"So did I… I suppose," she says, her voice slightly shaking as she is still absorbing all of what he just said.

The doubt on her voice and the stillness of her body—he notes all of these and fears her hostile reaction until she speaks again.

"But," he feels her kissing his temple, "We're here now."

He looks up and meets her eyes, now beaming with an unquestionable affection that tenderly assures him. He leans toward her and presses his forehead against hers.

"Finally," he breathes.

* * *

**A/N:** My Klaroline obsession had pushed me over the edge that I badly needed an outlet. Thus, I give you my first (and last?) fic. It's a little bit all over the place but what the hell.

And I would like to thank angellus08 and her story, Let the Games Begin, as one of my obvious inspirations for this.

Please pardon my grammar and spelling errors. English is not my first language.

Anyways, thank you very much for reading and please review if you can!

**PS:**I have no idea if Klaus' blood can already heal a werewolf bite even before the curse was broken. I assumed in this fic that it doesn't. Sorry, I just fiddled on that bit of the story. And sorry if I kind of messed up the original timeline. :(

**PS 2.0: **I'm really saddened—No, scratch that—I'm LIVID AND DEPRESSED about what happened to Klaus and I think I'm gonna need a break from fandom for a little while until the writers would get their heads out of their asses and start giving us _the_ effin' perfect canon. (Overdramatic much? Sorry! But you get me, right?)


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